


The Quiet Times

by heavy_cream



Category: Common Law
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavy_cream/pseuds/heavy_cream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't the sex but the quiet times in between the sex that Wes had a hard time dealing with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet Times

**Author's Note:**

> R is mostly for implied sexual situations and cussing. First dive writing for this fandom. Unbetaed. Critique always welcomed!

*******

It wasn't the sex but the quiet times in between the sex that Wes had a hard time dealing with. 

The sex had come surprisingly easy. A disagreement escalated into an argument, which turned into a fight, which led to roughhousing, which ended with both of them frantically making out against a wall, rutting almost desperately against each other, panting harsh words and urgent commands.

Sometime during the post-coital bliss they had managed to solve the case that had started the argument in the first place. They got the collar, settled on both being right and moved on.

Neither of them expected it to happen a second time, which is why both were surprised when it actually did. The third, fourth and fifth had been the result of arguments as well, except this time the fights had been on purpose, thin veiled excuses both had seen right through but the whole "not talking about stuff" was kind of their thing so they went with it.

So the sex wasn't the problem, it wasn't even -not really- work either since nothing really changed between them. They had pencil fights, bets Wes always managed to lose, fights in the bullpen, in front of the captain, in front of the suspects, in front of fellow officers, and they still had each others backs on the field.

But in between the sex and the work (which was really just foreplay so, still part of the sex) there were those quiet moments before falling asleep, waking up in the mornings, while getting coffee in the kitchen at the precinct, which unsettled Wes quite simply because when the work and the sex and the tension was stripped away, all that was left was just _them_ , no masks, no roles, no tags, just them and this soft, simple affection between them _that was just fucking terrifying._

Wes turned over in the narrow bed in Travis' trailer. His partner let out a slightly annoyed huff but kept sleeping while Wes arranged himself on his side to face Travis. It was dark, what with the whole 'trailer in warehouse' living arrangement that Travis had going on, but the Christmas lights outside provided enough light to distinguish features even in the dark. The black curly hair that never seemed messy (and wasn't that fucking unfair), the parted lips, the strong stubbly jaw, the ridiculous long lashes.

He shifted his head to look further down, over the slope of Travis' shaped shoulder, the slight curve of his waist, the hip before it disappeared under the sheets. All that glorious dark skin, luminous even in the dark, and the knowledge that he could simply reach out and touch it. Knowing that it would be welcomed, desired even, made Wes heady with something he couldn't name.

He kept his hands to himself, however, tucked under the pillow. He had touched Travis a million times, even before they started the whole sex thing. He had touched him to show support, to pull or push him into safety, to congratulate him, to celebrate, to let off steam. Pats on the back, pulls on an arm, smacks behind the head. Now there were other touches, caresses that sought to arouse, to seduce, desperate clutching in an effort to get closer, roaming hands and urgent, demanding touches. But right now, in the quiet moments, he wanted to touch simply to feel the heat beneath the skin, to soothe him and himself, to reassure them of each others presence. He wasn't sure where the line was in this thing they were doing, but he was sure that he would cross it if he reached out and trailed idle fingers over that skin.

So instead, he lay on his side on the small cot and watched the slow rise and fall of Travis' chest in the preternatural light of perpetual Christmas decorations until Travis's eyes suddenly opened. He did that, the whole deep slumber to wide awake in zero seconds thing, which annoyed Wes to no end quite simply because he couldn't do it no matter how hard he tried. Travis blinked a few times, deep blue eyes filling with mirth and something else, soft and solid like one of the touches Wes' didn't dare do.

But Travis had always been bolder than Wes, and he didn't wonder about things like lines and boundaries and quiet moments. He lifted a still sleep-heavy arm and curled it lazily around Wes' waist, pulling him closer in the already impossibly snug cot, and nuzzled his neck, lips trailing softly against a collarbone as he let out a contended sigh.

Wes wanted to complain, by reflex and habit and sheer fear, but then he thought that maybe this was like work and sex had been all along, that it was just about meeting Travis halfway. So he lifted his own hand, placing it carefully on the shoulder he'd been admiring earlier and let himself go pliant with the touch. He buried his nose in the soft curls almost unconsciously and realised that in the all the times they had been partners, all the time they had been fighting or fucking, never had they shared a more intimate moment than the one they were having in that instant, in the cramped cot amongst the rumpled sheets, under the Christmas lights on a Wednesday morning in June. When Travis pressed a smiling, humming kiss against his collarbone he thought that the lines had probably been crossed years ago, had maybe never even existed in the first place, and that they had had these quiet moments all the time, they'd just never shut up long enough to notice them.

"G'Morning," Travis murmured against his skin and Wes thought that for the first time in god knows how long, it was.

"Yeah, it really is."


End file.
